


Smell of Betrayal

by rea_grimm



Series: The secret of the potion [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Animal Instincts, Distrust, Fox Hybrid, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Prison, Traitor, Treason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:42:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28729854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rea_grimm/pseuds/rea_grimm
Summary: La Volpe, the fox who never trusted Machiavelli. He always thought he was a traitor to the Brotherhood. But his heart tells him otherwise. Coincidentally, he gets to spend more time with him and slowly realizes that his heart was probably right while his head was wrong.
Relationships: Niccolò Machiavelli/La Volpe
Series: The secret of the potion [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864465
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

Gilberto, or La Volpe, had known Machiavelli for a very long time. His fox instincts were never wrong. Ever since he first met him, he felt like he was a 100 per cent traitor. He knew a traitor when he saw one and Machiavelli was a traitor by heart. He only worked with him when he had to. All because of Ezio, who needed all the help he could get to drive the Templars from their homeland. On the other hand, he felt as if his fox-like nature was drawing him toward him.

In his spare time, when he was not concerned about his thieves, who were a family to him, he would follow Niccolo on his mundane rounds. Very often he saw him interacting with the most suspicious individuals in Florence.

*-*-*-*-*

La Volpe was in his club discussing something with Leonardo when Machiavelli walked in. He had free access and never had to report. Volpe and Leonard were discussing a trade, and Volpe finally told him something that his brilliant brain didn't quite understand. Simply put, Niccolo had no idea about the supernatural. He had no idea that such things as foxes, werewolves, vampires, and other supernatural beings existed. He thought of it only as fairy tales to frighten little children.

The artist was just about to leave, so Niccolo had a chance to talk to Volpe in private.  
„Hello, Volpe,” he said, striding forward proudly.  
„Machiavelli,” he replied neutrally, with an uncanny smile. His smile was the kind of poker face that sometimes made even the most difficult personalities nervous.  
„What did Leonardo need?” he asked, his hands behind his back.

„You know him. All unusual things. He's pretty into anatomy, and he wants to get one tooth. He said it was for an experiment,” he explained, fiddling with the artist's ring.  
„A tooth? This is indeed unusual. What kind of experiment?”  
„I'm afraid I don't know. And I don't need to know. He's a friend. That's enough,” since Niccolo wasn't stupid enough to notice the ring.  
„Can I help? I know that crest,” he offered.  
„Really?” he said playfully, tossing the ring for a closer look. Help is always useful. At least it saves time.

Once it was clear who their target was, they set to work. La Volpe's thieves lured the guards away, and they had the perfect opportunity to sneak up on the vampire while he was alone and in broad daylight. The target was in a completely blacked-out room where not a single ray of sunlight could slip in and he had his back to them. That's why they had a great ambush option. La Volpe was the first to attack. He growled something before rushing into the room. It was an entirely animal sound that Niccolo could not make out. Their fight was swift, as Volpe brought him down with perfect movement. Machiavelli couldn't even fight properly. He wasn't a fighter, but he was in the mood for a fight.

„Now! Come on! Rip out his fangs!” he snarled at him. The philosopher didn't understand why, but there were a lot of things in the fraternity that didn't make sense. Rather than ask, he walked over to the unusually pale man, his blood-red eyes fixed on him, his fangs curiously long. Niccolo punched him several times in the teeth. There was a chance that they would be better ripped out by it. He then took the tooth, rocked it several times, and yanked it out. As it was, he snatched the other one away before their work was done. He wrapped both teeth in a handkerchief and hid them in a hidden pocket.

Together they fled when Volpe stopped and returned to the vampire. He bent down and bit him on the neck. A bite from a werewolf or a creature like a fox is fatal to vampires. Now he was sure he wouldn't hurt anyone. He wiped his mouth and went back to the philosopher. The latter gave him only a suspicious look. Volpe merely grinned and showed a very expensive necklace. He had to make some money off it, didn't he?

Machiavelli subsequently handed over the teeth to Volpe, who gave them to Leonard. About a week later, Leonardo visited again. He wanted to thank them personally. They met at the Sleeping Fox. Niccolo praised the operation and described it all as complete cooperation. But La Volpe immediately denied everything but made no further comment. The whole thing resulted in a small argument since both men had to have the last word. The artist listened and had to chuckle. They reminded him very much of an old married couple who was constantly arguing, but at the same time, they could not exist without each other. At that moment, they both denied it in such a way that they confirmed it even more.

*-*-*-*-*

A lot happened over the next ten years. But their relationship has not evolved. They were still tiptoeing around each other, and Volpe seemed even more suspicious of Machiavelli. Especially after what happened in Monteriggioni. Besides, his spies had caught him secretly meeting Cesare Borgia countless times. One day he decided to take part in the surveillance in person.

He simply found Niccolo by the smell. It had a unique and original smell throughout Rome. He bounced from one roof to another until he was on the one that gave him the perfect view and could hear him as if he were standing right next to him. Machiavelli stood on the corner of the hut until a soldier wearing a Borgia uniform approached. They were arranging a meeting. Or rather, the philosopher suggested it, and the soldier was seen to be uneasy. But he finally convinced him. Plus, he gave him some information about the fraternity. Their meeting was to be attended by Cesare himself and would take place outside Rome on the edge of the forest, where no one went.

The following evening, just after dusk, a group of people gradually gathered at the edge of the dark forest, where there was a circular stone circle. Right in the middle of that circle was supposed to be a secret meeting of the Templars, to be attended by Machiavelli, who was already there. He was there a little earlier. He liked to be punctual. La Volpe was there, too. He hid in the forest in the form of a fox. It was one of his skills, after all. Moreover, he was not bounded by a moon to the transformation and could change whenever he chose. He had dark orange to brown fur. He looked like an ordinary fox, except for his unusual piercing violet eyes.

He crept closer. He moved among the shadows until he got close enough. He hid behind one of the stones and peered into the centre through the legs of one of the guards. He pricked his ears and listened. Machiavelli greeted Cesare and, at his instruction, began to tell him about the Brotherhood, the Guild of Mercenaries, courtesans, even thieves. La Volpe was angry. He knew he had been a traitor, and now he had proof. He paused in his judgment as he listened. Maybe Niccolo told all these things, but it wasn't true at all. So he decided to listen a little longer.

Cesare was smiling with satisfaction. He was pleased with the information. The philosopher was talking about thieves when Volpe's patience ran out. He saw an opportunity to settle all this once and for all and rid the city of one of its worst Templars. He crouched down to attack and sprang forward toward his victim. Slightly slipping past the guards, he jumped on Cesare and tackled him as if he were a small rabbit or mouse.

Cesare merely caught him lightly by the fur coat and kicked him aside. As soon as their leader was attacked, soldiers rushed to protect him. One of them even managed to wound him with a sword. The wound was not directly lethal, but for that, it was quite severe and prevented him from moving. Niccolo didn't like the way they treated the common fox, so he rushed over and prevented the others from hurting him further. He took her in his arms as another man hurried to their crowd. He was covered in a hood, but he was not an assassin. He walked over to Cesare and whispered something to him. He then looked at Machiavelli, and at his order as a philosopher, soldiers from both sides grabbed him and prevented him from moving.

„They were beautiful stories you told me, but I prefer reality. You know, I can loosen people's tongues. And I will especially enjoy it with you,” Borgia grinned at him before Niccolo was struck on the head by one of the soldiers and everything turned black before his eyes. „Take them to the castle,” he ordered and left. He honestly didn't care that the philosopher was still holding the fox while being dragged away.

*-*-*-*-*

Before the two of them were thrown into the carriage that was to take them to the castle of the angels, the soldiers beat the hell out of them so that they could not fight back or try to escape. When they reached their destination in Rome, they were thrown into one of the cells. One had to admit, though, that it was a large cell that could hold at least 3 dozen people to fill it properly.

Machiavelli was chained to a wall. After all, he was part of the opposition, and they couldn't afford for him to run. They didn't care about the fox. They just threw her in the cell-like it was a piece of rag. They were locked in and left to their fate, which Cesare Borgia would soon decide.

Niccolo was the first to wake up and take a good look at his surroundings, his condition and his prospects. Those weren't good at all, but that went away now. No one knew about him, but he liked animals. He didn't like to see them abused or hurt. He walked closer to the fox, as far as the chains would allow. He took the fox carefully in his arms and walked it closer to the wall so he wouldn't have such a problem with the chains. He checked her wounds with careful touches. Mostly minor injuries, bruises, but there was a sword wound, after all. That didn't look good. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and bandaged it around the fox. The bleeding stopped long ago during the transfer, but it still didn't look good.

„It will be better,” he said, though he suspected she might not hear him. His hands searched his fur and stroked him. Eventually, they moved more to his head and began to scratch his ear.

*-*-*-*-*

Volpe finally woke up after a few days. He was lying on his side next to the philosopher. He gave him a tired look before he came to his senses. Once he realized he was in a grey, cold cell next to the traitor, he scrambled to his feet and moved to the other side as far as he could. Once he thought he'd been far enough away, he took a good look around and his eye finally fell on the philosopher himself. It looked like he was asleep. His hands were chained and he looked tired. He even had his shirt torn. He who always made sure he looked his best.

„Up already? That's good. At least I know you're alive,” Niccolo said after waking up and opening his eyes. He seemed genuinely glad to be okay. La Volpe merely growled something in response and curled up in a ball. Now he had no energy to deal with anything.

La Volpe has kept his distance ever since. That is until he got hungry. Niccolo was regularly given one meal a day. It wasn't enough for him alone, and Volpe felt bad about it, but the hunger was too great. Niccolo was eating slowly off his plate when he noticed the hungry look in his eyes. He took the meat that was on the plate and set it aside, closer to him.

The fox took a few furtive steps forward, grabbed the meat, and withdrew again.  
„Don't worry, I won't eat it,” Niccolo smiled, handing him another piece of meat. The fox immediately devoured the first piece and rushed for the second. He was already chewing more slowly.  
„You know, I'm glad you're okay. I don't know why, but you remind me of one of my friends. He must think I'm a traitor. That I'm bringing information to enemies… If that were true, then why would they keep me here?” He sighed. „I'm sorry he doesn't believe me. I'd like to get closer to him, but he won't let that happen. His honour and instincts prevent him from doing so,” he confided to him. He had so many things that weighed on his heart that he could not confide in anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later, in his cell after a long time together, Cesare came to visit them. He felt he had let them cool enough. Now it was time to get some information about his enemies. He carried himself proudly like a king, and two guards followed him inside.

„So how's my favourite prisoner?” he asked teasingly, kicking Volpe aside. Niccolo merely gave him a cold look and refused to say a word. He knew full well what his captor wanted. Cesare's smile fell from his lips and he took the philosopher by the throat and hauled him to his feet.

Volpe scrambled to his feet and began growling at him. After spending time with him, he wanted to give him a chance, and that didn't mean he was just going to let him die. Cesare nodded to one of his men to silence the pesky fox. Without thinking, soldier obeys and kicks him on.

That only made him angrier. He scrambled back to his feet and lunged directly at the Borgia. He bounced back and bit the hand that held the philosopher by the throat. Cesare let go immediately and tried to shake the fox. A second guard had to help. As soon as they shook him off, they hit him on the head with the sword. Cesare wanted to end it, pulled a gun from Leonardo, and wanted to shoot the animal. Niccolo couldn't let that happen and took him in his arms. In doing so, he signalled his intention to protect him.

„I'll talk. I'll say whatever you want,” he said. For that, he earned a bite on the hand from a fox. Machiavelli merely gave him a quick apologetic glance. „Our headquarters are in the old part of town. Where there aren't many soldiers. There aren't many of us...” and he began to lie, which was so convincing that for a moment La Volpe himself believed it. He let go of his hand and licked the clots of blood that ran from the small wounds on his head. Fortunately, it wasn't a serious injury.

That seemed to be enough for Cesare. He smiled triumphantly and walked away satisfied. He planned to attack the assassins and surprise them from ambush without their expecting it. He would finally erase them from Rome and rid himself of the pesky Ezio.

  
  


Earlier that evening, Cesare had left the angel castle with half the guards. This made the castle insufficiently protected and an easy target for assassins. The perfect time to escape.

Regularly as he did every night at the same time, a guard walked over to their cell with a small tray of food. Volpe immediately ran to the bars and sniffed at the soldier. He looked more like he was trying to cuddle him. The guard didn't react to that and just tried to finish the job as quickly as possible. His shift was due to end in an hour, and he wanted it over as soon as possible. As soon as he was gone, Volpe went back to Niccolo and poked him with his nose. The philosopher looked at him and smiled. His furry friend held a small bunch of keys in his mouth and placed it in front of him.

„How did you do it? Looks like it's time to get out of here, don't you think?” he asked Volpe and set about testing the keys. Once the shackles were unlocked, he didn't miss a beat and headed straight for the door. He hit the key on the third try. He opened them as quietly as he could and, with the fox, started for the exit. They passed several guards sleeping on patrol.

They reached the main courtyard, where they had to reach the main gate. There was no other way out. None that he knows of. They found their horses, broke through the main gate and headed for the ruins of the city. There they had a better chance of escape if they were followed. Which they did, even though their pursuers weren't ordinary people and they couldn't get rid of them. It looked as if a few wolves had overtaken them and cut off their path. The followers of Romulus were werewolves who were descendants of true Italian werewolves.

They were trapped, and both of them knew it. This was the first time Machiavelli had seen a werewolf with his own eyes. And to be honest, he didn't know if he should trust his senses. He felt surrounded by humanoid wolves, but his mind refused to believe it. La Volpe dismounted and faced the werewolves.  
„What are you doing? Come back!” Niccolo snapped.

But La Volpe wasn't listening, and with unnatural speed, he lunged at the first werewolf and bit his throat. Then he lunged at the other, and when he was sure he had caught the attention of the whole pack, he ran in the opposite direction from the philosopher. As he suspected, the whole pack ran after him. But he relied on his speed. There was no one else in all of Italy as quick and stealthy as him.

Niccolo was not going to leave his prison companion to the wolves. He dismounted, as it would be difficult to handle a horse among the rubble. He jumped to the wreckage and ran after it. He was high above them and caught up quite easily. And just in time. La Volpe was at an impasse with its escape route cut off. Niccolo jumped down onto a lower wall, hopped over to the other side, and in the process grabbed the fox by the scruff of the neck and ran away with him. He zigzagged along the walls until he reached the end of the wreckage. Along with the debris, the ground before him had disappeared. He was standing on the edge of the cliff below which the Tibera River ran.

Now he had no way to go back or escape, either, as followers of Romulus caught up with them and cut off any escape routes. Niccolo looked toward the river and assessed the situation. Once he'd decided on the only possible way out of all this, he took a good grip on Volpe, took a deep breath, exhaled, and jumped off a cliff. He just hoped the river was deep enough for them to land.

There was a loud splash, and then two heads appeared on the black surface. Niccolo was still holding Volpe, not knowing if the fox could swim or not. They swam to shore, where the philosopher lay on his back, panting wearily. But he was incredibly happy that they had survived all this madness.

„You alright?” he asked the fox, taking it in both hands and lifting it over him. This was the first time Volpe had ever seen him smile honestly.

„We did it,” he laughed, kissing his nose and giving him a big hug. Volpe was completely taken aback by it all, but he did not resist it. Frankly, he rather enjoyed it. He would have licked or kissed him himself, but he was too tired for that, and he had his pride.

Hours later, Volpe's thieves discovered them by the river. Niccolo was asleep, still hugging Volpe. La Volpe noticed his men, nodded to them, and then to the philosopher. His men knew immediately what he wanted them to do, and he didn't have to say a word. He then disappeared into the shadows. The thieves took Machiavelli and took him to the base, where he was changed into dry clothes and treated for any injuries.

*-*-*-*-*

Exactly a week later, La Volpe planned to visit Machiavelli. After all, he felt they had become quite close during their time in prison, though the philosopher had no idea it was him. He ran from roof to roof until the philosopher came into view. He could find him by scent. And this time it was much easier than the first time. Unfortunately for him, as for the first time, Niccolo was in cahoots with one of Cesare's soldiers.

He heard every word and couldn't believe he was ratting on their fraternity again, There were lies in it again that he could recognize after all, but that wasn't exactly what annoyed him. It was something else. In his last attempt to be a double spy, he was nearly killed in the process. How could he just be so reckless? A snarl escaped his throat before he spun on his heel and disappeared.

Off to a hideout on the island of Tibera. He had a stash of alcohol hidden there, and no one ever looked for him there. Except for Ezio, that is, but he simply had a knack for such things. He had just grabbed a bottle and was getting ready to hole up when the assassin in question had just appeared. He was humming something when he noticed Volpe.

„Busy day?” he asked the thief.  
„You could say that,” he growled. He wasn't in the mood. Not today. Ezio knew. He wasn't just going to let him go. Instead, he grabbed his arm.  
„I think you could use a friend right now,” he said, giving him a look that said he didn't take no for an answer.

Gilberto merely sighed and went to sit with Ezio. Together they sat on the roof, where they were assured that no one would spy on them. At first, there was silence. No one said anything until Volpe sighed and told him about Machiavelli. Ezio knew most of it anyway. Besides, he wasn't stupid. At the end of the conversation, Ezio advised him to talk to him. From the heart. At least then he'll know what he's on. Besides, he mentioned that he himself had advised Leo to do something similar. Volpe was silent. He thought and decided his friend was right.

Right after they said goodbye since Ezio had to see Leonardo. Their meetings were secret, but even that didn't stop them. Volpe rounded up one of his thieves and sent a message to Machiavelli. Meetings on the island of Tibera, in exactly one hour. As soon as the thief was out of sight, he went to freshen up a bit, looking like a wreck didn't help.

  
  


When Machiavelli reached the hideout, Gilberto was waiting impatiently for him.  
„I hear you want to talk to me,” Niccolo said neutrally.  
„Yes, I did. I don't like what you're doing. It will kill you if you don't stop.”  
„I don't know if you're aware of this, but whatever we do can get us killed.”

What should have been a simple conversation between friends soon turned into a loud argument. Whoever was in the shelter disappeared as quickly as possible to avoid becoming the victims of this unexpected storm.

„Then finish it! Kill me and see for yourself! At least you won't have to worry if being devoted to our cause won't kill me!” Niccolo shouted, throwing up his hands. La Volpe lunged at him. He had no weapon in his hand and was growling dangerously. It reminded the philosopher of a wild animal.

Just as Niccolo drew his weapon, Volpe drew his dagger, though he didn't need it much now. The next moment, they were on top of each other. Unfortunately, Gilberto had a clear advantage. He knocked the sword from Machiavelli's hand and knocked it to the ground. He threw the dagger aside as it was useless and clutched at his throat. His eyes gleamed with rage and he continued to growl.

Niccolo stared at him, wide-eyed. This close up, he could see clearly how his friend had sharp teeth, a glowing gaze, two lumps under his hood as if something new had appeared there. Plus, he could feel his sharp nails on his neck. He might as well say he felt claws. His senses must have fooled him by now. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He knew he wouldn't get out of this alive. At least it would be by his hand, and he wouldn't have to go on worrying like this.

Gilberto had his life in his claws. His tail flicked impatiently from side to side under his cloak. He wanted to get rid of it. He strangled him, bit his throat... But on the other hand, something in him told him not to. He was still leaning over him, his head slowly tilting toward his own. He knew full well that he had feelings for him. But he wasn't quite sure exactly what it was. Well, that was actually a lie. He knew it well enough.

He growled something before leaning over, kissing him roughly on the lips. Before the philosopher could open his eyes or object, Volpe hit him on the head and knocked him out. He climbed down and walked briskly away. He wanted to be as far away as possible when he woke up. On the way away, he thought he would avoid everyone, but he came across Ezio again. Ezio started to say something, but Gilberto ignored him completely.

Ezio merely shrugged off his behaviour and moved on. He needed to see something, but he didn't expect to find Machiavelli stunned on the ground. He knew immediately what had happened between them. He woke him up and treated his wound. Mostly, that is small scratches on the neck and hands.

„You want to tell me what happened?” he asked the philosopher. He merely looked down. He didn't want to talk about it. It was pretty humiliating for him. Ezio just took a deep breath. This will take a while. He gave him a good talking to. First Volpe, now him. Machiavelli had to admit, after his words, that he was probably right.

*-*-*-*-*

Both Gilberto and Machiavelli have avoided everyone for a week since the incident. They were in no mood to talk to anyone in the fraternity. Especially with Ezio or the other one. And they were getting along just fine. Niccolo reflected on all that had happened between them in the past. Finally, he gathered his thoughts and decided to do what was right. Go see La Volpe.

No one has seen him since, and his thieves wouldn't just betray him. Even so, he decided to start looking there. He headed straight for Sleeping Fox. He walked into the inn, trying to figure out where to start. He didn't have to think long, as one of Volpe's closest thieve came up to him. Even though all his thieves were family to him.

„It's good you're here. You should see the boss. We're not spreading it, but we're worried about him. Do you know what happened? He doesn't eat. Nothing amuses him. We don't know what to do with him. You must help us,” he urged the philosopher.  
„I'll do my best,” he replied.  
„Try the balcony. He closes there quite often,” he advised him before leaving again.

Niccolo went straight there. This looked even worse than he thought. He climbed the stairs and then up the ladder to the top of the building. At the top, he had to breathe for at least a minute. He didn't want to look weak in front of him. Once he was sure of himself, he walked quietly behind Volpe. From a distance he could see him sitting on the edge of the balcony, propped against a beam, one leg dangling down.

Volpe was enjoying the peace and when he heard footsteps he thought it was Ezio. Plus, he was sitting upwind, so he couldn't tell from the smell. And thinking it was nothing important, he didn't bother to get up and greet his guest.

„I have to admit, it's a beautiful view from here,” Niccolo broke the silence, taking a good look. For the first time, he saw him with his hood down. He'd always known he had black hair, but never thought he'd hidden fox ears under it. Moreover, the cloak without which he never came out now fell aside, exposing the bushy fox's tail. Volpe's ears twitched at his voice, making it clear he had heard him. But he did not react to his words.

„You may not believe me after all this, but I've come to apologize. I was an _idiot_ _a_. I probably should have told you about it...” he continued his apology, sitting down next to the fox. Gilberto didn't move, but after a moment he leaned over and rested his head on his shoulder.

Niccolo continued to talk and was rather tempted to scratch behind these bushy ears. Eventually, he did. As his fingers touched his head, memories of the castle of an angel came back to him. Volpe did not resist it and seemed to enjoy it, too, with a purring sound coming from his throat.

„I have to say, I kind of missed this,” Niccolo said after a moment. He just hoped he hadn't said something bad, since Gilberto had stopped whining.  
„Me too,” Volpe finally said quietly, cocking his head to get a better look at his face. There was hope in his eyes. Maybe Ezio was right all along.

„Forgiven?” ventured Machiavelli. At that moment Volpe stood up and looked at him. Finally, he tapped his cheek with a serious expression. It was an invitation to Niccolo. He leaned over to kiss his outstretched cheek. It wouldn't be Gilberto if he didn't take advantage of the situation. For when the lips of the philosopher were to land on his face, he moved his head, and their lips met. This time the kiss was gentle and hopeful.

„Forgiven. But don't tell anyone about this,” he said after they split up. Niccolo merely smiled at this. This was a new opportunity for them.


End file.
